Remedies and Revelations
by empaige
Summary: Bellatrix was always oddly obsessed with Voldemort, but have you ever given thought as to why that may be? Set when James Sirius Potter is in his fifth year at Hogwarts.
1. preface

_Preface._

_London, England. October, 1976._

It may as well have been ice.

The rain seemed almost murderous; unforgiving, it lashed against the back of a young woman whose cloak provided nothing more than a slight shield for the bundle of blankets underneath it. _Penance. It was simply penance for the horrible sin about to be committed._ Heels clattered on the cobblestone, but the noise was mercifully subdued by the downpour. _If anyone saw…if anyone even _knew_ it was I…_The street lights had been inexplicably extinguished. The only light was the dim glimmer radiating off the tip of what was, apparently, a stick the young woman was holding with an outstretched, shaking arm. She glanced back over her shoulder, and for a fraction of a second, her pale face was illuminated in the feeble wand light. Chestnut brown eyes peered out from under tangled curls stained black from the rain. But quick as a flash, the face was concealed once more behind the cloak as the woman turned down yet another street. The bundle in her arms began to squirm and whimper softly. "Shh," The woman cooed; she paused for a moment to press her lips to the infant's smooth forehead. A tear escaped her long eyelashes and mingled with the rain already soaking the blankets. Soon another came, and another, until she sank to the ground crying softly. Was she really doing this? It was for the best, she knew it. No child could grow up happily amidst the violence and sorrow she herself took part in creating, however great the cause may be. However, this fact did nothing to stop the steady stream of tears that was now beginning to compete with the rain.

The infant whimpered again, louder this time. The woman stood up and continued down the road, faster than before. With each step, she began to hate herself more and more. Surely, she could not do this. _Surely, there was another way_. Surely…She had to. She had to give up her first and only child to a world she despised and condemned. She had to throw away the only token she would ever have of the love He had given her. Her master, her mentor, her lover, and the person she feared most. This child was the only remaining bond she would have to him, and she was abandoning her among filth.

The buildings around her were collapsing in shame, taunting her, killing her; and she soon fell with the buildings.

"YOU THINK THIS IS EASY?" She finally screamed out, eyes bloodshot with either insanity or sadness, it was impossible to tell. "YOU THINK I _WANT_ THIS?" She asked the brick, macabre buildings. Her stomach was in her throat, her pulse in her neck, and she cursed the air a thousand times but none at all. She was foraging for rationalizations but attempting to rationalize the situation only fed the pitiless, burning guilt bubbling in her stomach.

The feelings she felt for this bundle pressed affectionately against her chest were entirely unexpected, for experiencing any love at all was almost unprecedented, save for one man who, through no coincidence, bore this child. _She is so pure, in innocence and in blood…and I'm leaving her in the care of horrifically sordid, vile people._

The woman pleaded to the skies for death, screamed at the buildings to rise once more and to free her of their taunts. The cries from the child grew louder and louder and soon the woman gathered herself and focused her attention on her crying infant. "Shh, my Ella. It will all be fine, I p-promise…" Her voice quivered, her heart broke. The buildings grew back to their normal sizes, bringing with them a sense of confidence. _I have to. _"It's for the best, little Adela."

Once again, and for the final time, the young woman continued down the narrowing street. Thoughts poured in her mind like waterfalls, staying for only a mere second but making a miserable impact nonetheless. Her steps soon lined with her heartbeat and she began to count them. _One, two, three…_In a matter of minutes she arrived at a set of iron gates and, passing them, stepped into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. She slowly and cautiously, for fear of trembling too much to make a successful trip up the stairs, stepped one by one and knocked on the front door. Almost immediately, the door was opened by a scruffy old woman wearing an apron.

"A-are you Miss Cole? I read about the place…" The woman could barely mask the repugnance she felt simply looking around the place. The wallpaper was peeling off, revealing a yellowing wall. "I have nowhere else to turn…obviously. I…I-I have to leave her," She took the bundle out from her cloak and unwrapped it partially, exposing a round face with dark brown, confused eyes."

"Oh…oh of course you can leave her with me, don't you worry," Miss Cole brushed off the rudeness of her guest. "What's your name, miss? If you don't mind me asking."

"It doesn't matter, don't waste time," The woman snapped back, not taking her eyes off her daughter. "Just treat her well, do you understand me? Treat her as I wish I could…" More tears threatened to escape their lashed cell.

"Yes, miss. But she needs a name. She has a name, I assume?" Miss Cole asked tentatively.

"Adela, my little Ella," A smile escaped the woman's mouth, creating a soft expression that looked oddly unsettling on such a harsh face.

"A last name, miss?"

"Oh…well…She can't have her father's last name…Lestrange. Yes, Lestrange might work, but if my husband ever found out…No. It can't be. I'll have to go with my maiden name, Black. Adela Black," Bellatrix Lestrange spoke rapidly, and Miss Cole only caught the last two words she had managed to utter through tears. "Stop looking at me like that, filth," She added with scorn.


	2. chapter one

_Chapter 1:_

_Godric's Hollow, James Sirius Potter is in his 5__th__ year, Lily Potter in her 2nd, and Albus Severus in his fourth._

James Potter awoke to the soft hoot of an owl. It was a large barn owl, which had perched at the foot of his bed and was now staring expectantly at him. James looked at the letter tied to its leg and groaned. _Of course, booklists. _He thought grudgingly, _We're going shopping today. _He leaned forward to untie the letter, which felt much heavier than it usually did, and sat back on his pillow. There was definitely something other than the usual booklist inside the envelope. Perplexed, James tore open the purple seal and out fell a shiny, scarlet, prefect's badge. He pulled out the first sheet of parchment from the envelope, slightly unsure of what to think.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am most pleased to inform you that due to your academic excellence and display of substantial leadership capabilities, you have been chosen to be a Gryffindor Prefect. Prefect duties will include…_

James skimmed the rest of letter without taking it in. Prefect? Him? He had not really thought about it before now. On one hand, he was not very surprised. He did get fairly good grades and he tried not to break the rules most of the time, and of course, considering who his parents were it really wasn't all that shocking. Not that he thought that had anything to do with Professor McGonagall's decision of course, but by this point in his life he had become accustomed to people expecting more of him simply because of who he was related to.

James turned the gleaming badge over in his fingers a few times, bracing himself for the impending overzealous reaction his parents were going to have because of it. He didn't really blame them, though. His father, Harry Potter, _had_, after all, defeated the darkest wizard of all time, saving the entire world from inevitable destruction; and now was the head of the Auror department in the ministry. And his mother, Ginny Weasley, aided him in the war and was now captain of the Holy Head Harpies, the most popular all-female Quidditch team in the league. The family was, to James' occasional dismay, the most well known wizarding family in the history of the wizarding world. Because of this, his parents felt the need to act as though any major or minor accomplishment by their children was the greatest thing anyone had ever done, so their children would not feel 'overshadowed' and whatnot. At least this was how James saw it, and, having experienced the countless celebrations in honor of him and his siblings, he felt sure this was the reason why.

The large barn owl hooted loudly and affectively stopped James from dwelling on the hullabaloo about to ensue. He looked over at it, sat up, and rummaged around in his desk for an owl treat.

* * *

The Potter household constantly smelled of delicious food. James stepped down the stairs in a daze, enticed by the aroma of bacon, fried eggs, and toast. Family breakfasts were a tradition during the summer holidays, as it was really the only time of day everyone was in the house together. And, as per usual, dad, little sister Lily, and little brother Albus were all sitting around the table while his mum was magiking food around the room. James sat down in his normal chair and pulled the Daily Prophet away from his brother.

Of course, his mother had her column on the increasing interest in women's Quidditch published right on the front page. He flipped through. No news of new teachers at Hogwarts. He recalled his father once telling him that every year for quite some time Hogwarts had to instate a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. James thought about this a lot. Although the circumstances in which that had taken place were horrible, he could not help but wish there were new teachers every few years or so. Things at Hogwarts could get dreadfully boring and repetitive.

So, he had put it off for long enough. He took a deep breath.

"Erm…so…y'know how the Hogwarts letters came today?" James asked, attempting casually to bring up the prefect matter at the breakfast table.

"Yes…?" Ginny replied, while Harry asked, "Have you been expelled, then?"

Albus and Lily burst into laughter, and James shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "N-no, not exactly…"

"Well, what is it then, sweetie?" asked Ginny, handing him a piece of toast.

"Erm, I've sort of…beenmadeprefect…"

"Less toast, more words…" Harry smirked.

"I've been made prefect, I suppose…"

"You suppose? Well that's _great, _dear!" Ginny's smile stretched from ear to ear and she got up from the table, calling Hansel, the family owl, into the room. "I'll write to Ron and Hermione straight away! Oh, and grandma and grandpa. And George and Angelina, and…"

"Mum, it's _really_ not that big of a deal. And besides, I think George would tear the mickey out of me rather than congratulate me…" James groaned into his toast. "Please don't make this a bigger deal than it needs to be?" He looked to his father for support. "I'm just not exactly _happy_ about the extra responsibility."

"James, it's great! Really, you should be proud. Hermione and Ron were prefects, you know," Harry replied reassuringly. "You'll have you get a reward for this, of course. A new broomstick? Or maybe an owl?"

"Well…an owl, definitely," James' mood seemed to be greatly improved by his father's words. Sure, an overreaction was not always ideal…but they had the best of intentions. "I mean, I already have a top of the line broom, and I've had two great years on it. I don't want to risk getting a new one. And anyway, sharing one owl between five people is getting a bit ridiculous," James said, adding with a grin, "'Specially with the incessant writing Al seems to do during the school year…"

This was another thing about the Potter family. James' parents tried as hard as they could to ensure their children would not be spoiled. The three did chores to earn their money and only received presents when they really deserved them, for holidays, and, of course, birthdays; anything non-school related was to be bought with their own money as well. They did a remarkably good job keeping their kids down to earth, and, despite the lavish house they lived in, the frequent interviews held at the house, and the looks every family member received when out in public, the family managed to lead a relatively normal life.

"Hey!" Albus protested. "A lot goes on in _my_ life, I'm sorry _yours_ is too boring to tell anyone about!" And with that, Lily burst into another fit of hysterics and Albus through a piece of bacon at James' head.

* * *

At around noon, the fireplace began to crackle with green flames and within seconds spit out a rather bushy haired woman.

"Hi Hermione!" said Harry, who looked up from the book he was reading, quite unsurprised.

"Hello!" Hermione said cheerily, stepping into the room and sitting on the couch next to James, "How are things?"

"They're excellent! James has been made-" he paused as Ron stepped out of the fireplace, after having ducked quite a bit, grinning.

"Harry!" said Ron loudly, "How are you?"

"Well I was actually about to answer that. James-" He was interrupted again as green flames erupted from the fireplace a third time and a ginger-haired girl stumbled out clumsily.

"Rose!" said Lily, who had just entered the room. She beamed at her cousin and sat down next to her father. "Hello Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione!"

"Hi Lily!" Rose said as she moved out of the way of her brother, who was exiting the fireplace.

"Why hello Hugo," said Ginny as she peaked her head around the corner. "Hi everyone! Have you all heard the news?"

"I think Harry was about to tell us." Hermione said, sitting Lily down on her lap.

"Yes, I was about to say-"

"James has been made prefect!" chimed Lily.

"Yeah, that." Harry laughed.

"Congratulations!" Hermione squealed, nearly knocking Lily off her lap. At the same time, Ron had said to James who had just entered the room, rather apologetically, "I'm sorry, kid."

"Oh, hush, Ron!" Hermione beamed. "I can give you all sorts of tips, James. It's great fun, really. You get the Prefect's Bathroom, of course. And—"

"The lavatory is really the only reason to be excited about this, trust me," Ron teased, patting James on the back and laughing.

"Ron, _please, _shut up," Hermione pleaded with her husband, not able to suppress a smirk. "Well, it is a lot of responsibility, of course. And you want to be sure that you don't favor any House or any students. And forget about wandering around the castle alone at night," With the last sentence, she gave a reprimanding eye to James. "Don't think we don't know where that map went—"

"Anyway, we best get going, then," Ginny interrupted, fearing Lily, Hugo and Rose may catch on to what Hermione was getting at.

* * *

James stepped out into the bustling alley and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight. He had never particularly liked shopping, it always seemed more stressful to him than anything. However, today would hopefully be an improvement considering that not only were the Weasleys joining them, but also Alex, his best friend. He had met Alex his first day at Hogwarts in History of Magic class. Professor Binns had been giving his usual dull introduction to history speech, and Alex, twirling his wand in a bored fashion, had somehow managed to give himself a few extra pairs of ears. James being the first one to notice this, was designated to take him to the hospital wing, and by the time Alex had the correct amount of ears protruding from his dirty blonde head, the two had become steadfast friends.

Just as James was recalling this, he spotted the same blonde head bobbing toward him in the crowd. "Alex!" he said, as Alex drew nearer.

"Hey James!" said Alex, grinning, "Hi everyone!"

"Hello Alex!" said Ginny as she swooped in for a hug. "How are you dear?"

"Excellent. How are you all?"

"Oh we're all fine of course! Are you ready to go? I think we'll start off with Madame Malkin's-"

"'Er Mum?" interrupted James, "Would it be okay if Alex and I went over to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor instead? Neither of us needs robes this year."

"It's fine with me, as long as you meet us back at George's in… let's say an hour and a half? Does that sound good to you Harry?"

"Yeah sounds good. Just make sure you tell Alex the good news James!"

"Erm, yeah I will." James muttered quickly just as Ginny opened her mouth to say it herself. "Bye Mum. Bye everyone."

"So what's the good news?" asked Alex as they rounded the corner.

"I've been made Prefect." James said unenthusiastically.

"Congratulations mate!" said Alex. Then seeing the less than excited look on his friend's face, he added, "Or, you know, my sympathies. Whichever is more fit for the occasion."

"Neither really. I honestly don't know what to think about the whole situation."

"Why did they pick you do you think?"

"My 'academic excellence and display of substantial leadership capabilities.'" smirked James as they entered into the ice cream parlor. A plethora of brightly colored ice cream waited behind a frosty glass pane, in flavors ranging from Guava to Owl Treat.

"Hey Alex, how about this one?" said James pointing to a container full of crimson ice cream that was nearly untouched.

"'_Blood Flavor (includes clots)_'" Alex read aloud. "No mate, I'm more partial to '_Troll Tongue_', actually."

After they had chosen their flavors, (for James, Raspberry Fudge ice cream, and for Alex, coconut ice cream with sugared dragonfly wings,) the two sat down in a pair of soft leather armchairs in the corner of the parlor. James stared out of the window at the busy street absent-mindedly.

"Er mate? Hello? James!" said Alex, exasperated. "I don't see you for a whole month and you have nothing to talk about? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah I suppose." said James. "I just wish…" He trailed off. In all honesty, he had no idea what he wished. All he knew was that he had a sort of growing discontent, and that this was the first time his entire life someone was actually asking him to address it. "I wish there were more attractive women in my life." he finished with a smirk, trying to lighten the situation a bit. He hated discussing his feelings.

"You have loads of attractive women in your life." laughed Alex. 'Your problem is that you just don't even bother to look. I mean take those ones over there," he pointed to a group of girls sitting a few tables from them. "They aren't bad at all."

"Yeah not _bad_ maybe, but definitely not attractive."

"I take it back then. It's not that you don't look; your expectations are much too high. It makes sense I suppose. What with every girl in your family rating at least 'Exceeds Expectations', if not 'Outstanding'…"

"Elaborate. Please."

"Well, there's your Aunt Fleur of course, Lily's starting to grow into her ears, and your mum's kind of…"

"Don't even _think_ that, God," James protested in disgust, though he was long used to his peers finding his family members attractive.

"Well it's the truth. But honestly, I don't think I've ever heard you actually point out a girl that meets your standards. They only get so pretty you know."

"Okay, okay, that one," James said, pointing his ice cream cone over towards a young witch sitting across the parlor by herself. Her hair was electric blue and down to her waist. She was short, and her face was somewhat pixie like.

"Yeah, she's pretty fit…if she lost the hair, you know."

"Well, not completely," James laughed, his eyes following the girl. She was oddly beautiful, a sight James had never really seen before and he was mesmerized for a short while. The light shone off her hair, giving the girl a seemingly glowing aurora. She turned around, perhaps sensing eyes on her, and smiled at James briefly before taking her cone from the worker. Alex looked at James quizzically, and James stuttered hurriedly, "Maybe just a different color…"

"Ha, whatever you say, mate," Alex said with a knowing smile. "How 'bout that one, over there? She's a Slytherin, if I remember correctly."

"Slytherin? Automatic no," James laughed without even looking over at whoever Alex was suggesting, eyes still transfixed on the blue-haired girl sitting only tables away from them. "Do you know who she is? The girl over there?"

"Yeah, she's in Gryffindor. Our year, you know. I don't exactly know how you haven't noticed her, bright blue hair and all," Alex replied. "Why do you care, though? She's not exactly outgoing or anything. Doubt you'll spark up a friendship. Kind of a…bookworm, you know? …Hello? God, mate, you don't even know her!"

"What? I'm not doing anything," James said, picking up his bag. "Let's go, I need quills and parchment."

* * *

Through the cobblestone streets and product- laden stores, James eventually found himself face to face with a torn-up wanted poster. The face on the poster, was, to say the least, terrifying. It was almost wolf-like to James. Its graying hair sat matted and seemingly flea infested on its scarred, mutilated head. The face was gaunt and dangerous; burns and tears in his skin told guilty stories of war, vengeance, and bloodshed. The creature's lips looked as though they were carved into his face rather than placed there naturally; moreover, they looked as though they had been bitten down upon mercilessly throughout the years. The eyes, however, were the things that made James' skin crawl with morbid curiosity. They were an unfamiliar black, stone cold, and irrevocably bloodthirsty. James hesitated, fearing the answer he may receive. But, after a moment his interest outweighed his fear. He forced his eyes to the bottom of the tattered paper and surely enough, his fears gained merit immediately. The name printed below the photo was, indeed, _Fenrir Greyback_.


	3. chapter two

Throughout his childhood, James' Uncle Ron had told numerous, and quite ludicrous, 'scary stories' about Fenrir Greyback, and consequently James grew up assuming there was no conceivable way that this _thing_ existed. However, through his years at Hogwarts James and his classmates learned of the creature's biddings in History of Magic. Nevertheless, James had always assumed it was dead, simply another deserving victim of the Second Wizarding War.

These thoughts had not left James since the day he and Alex found the fated poster. And, once again, he was mumbling to himself and racking his brains for answers. "I mean really, _why_ wouldn't my dad tell me the truth? '_It's got nothing to do with you, James. It's not a big deal anyway, just a scare tactic,' _Oh, really? A scare tactic? I thought the Ministry was over its previous corruption!"

"James, _shut up_," Alex pleaded hopelessly. "I want to know just as much as you do, but it's not as though you're going to get any answers from me, so will you _please_ just give it a rest?"

The two were walking slowly towards Platform 9 ¾, keeping a distance from their overexcited families. After this conversation, however, the pair sped up and the discussion died down.

"Now, behave yourself this year!" Ginny said sharply to Lily and Rose. "I don't want any letters home telling me that you two have stolen food from the kitchen in the middle of the night or something!"

"Mum, trust me. If we knew where the kitchen _was_, that would happen. But we don't because _someone_ won't tell us!" Lily said pointedly to her father.

"I have no idea why you would assume I know anything about any secret places in Hogwarts," Harry smirked. "Now write often, be good…um…brush your teeth…"

"And have a wonderful, studious year!" Hermione chimed in, hugging her children and patting her niece and nephews on the head.

Ron, Ginny, and Harry also bade the children farewell and watched them melt into the brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10.

James and Alex boarded the train and then went their separate ways. Alex, to their usual compartment with the rest of their friends, and James off to the Prefects' car. With every step, he began to wish that anybody but him had been chosen for Prefect. He glanced enviously at the students in compartments as he walked past. Some of them talking, some hugging, some awkwardly catching up, and none feeling the apprehension he was currently dealing with. Finally, he reached the Prefects car. It was considerably larger than any other compartment on the train, courtesy of an enlargement charm, he was sure, and the seats were made out of an extremely soft-looking plush material. A tall girl with very curly hair and glasses met him at the doorway holding a clipboard.

"Hello. What's your name?" she said in a businesslike tone.

"Er, I'm James, James Potter."

The girl skimmed her clipboard for a few seconds then said. "Ah yes. Gryffindor, hmm? I'm Eleanor Hopkirk, Head Girl this year."

"I see." said James, noticing the badge pinned to her Ravenclaw scarf.

"Yes well you can go sit with the other new Gryffindor Prefect. She's over there." Eleanor pointed to the very corner of the compartment, where a girl with bright reddish brown hair was sitting. The color was so vibrant it would have looked unusual on anyone else; however, on this girl it seemed as natural as if she had had it her entire life. She looked very familiar for some reason, but he was certain that he had not talked to her a day in his life.

"Um, hi." he said awkwardly, "Er, Eleanor, I think her name was, told me that you're the other new Prefect?"

"Mhm! I'm Natasha Ross, Nat for short." She had a very slight Scottish accent that made James' stomach do summersaults.

"Attention new Prefects! Gregory Wafkon, the Head Boy from Hufflepuff, and I will be attending some _very_ important business. We will be back in an hour or two to list off your Prefect duties and give instructions. In the mean time, socialize, please!" And with that, Eleanor Hopkirk left the compartment.

"I'm James Potter," He managed without stuttering.

There was a slight awkward silence, broken when Natasha said, "You're Harry Potter's son, then? That's cool…"

"Er yeah I am." Then, hastening to change the subject he said, "Have I met you before? You look really familiar."

"Well no, not really. But I saw you once over the summer in Diagon Alley, I think."

"Yeah!" said James, remembering the mesmerizing blue-haired girl. "You changed your hair! I liked it! Well I mean I like it now of course too…" He said awkwardly, but truthfully.

"Well yeah I do that quite a lot." she said. "I'm a metamorphmagus."

"Oh cool! My cousin's one of those."

"Really, who?"

"Teddy Lupin. Well, he's sort of my cousin. You probably don't know him he graduated a few years ago."

"Wait, I'm assuming he's related to Remus Lupin?"

"Yeah! My dad was really close to him, so Teddy's his godson."

"Yeah I think that might have been mentioned in History of Magic."

James sighed. Back to his famous parents yet again.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised." Then attempting to draw the conversation away from his family, he said, rather stupidly, "I never knew him though… obviously."

"Who Remus Lupin? He died about twenty years ago didn't he?"

"Er, well, yeah." said James, who was now mentally whacking himself in the head with a large mallet. This conversation was getting more awkward by the second. "So you're a fifth year then?" he said, desperately.

"Well, yes. I thought you had to be to get Prefect, right?"

"Oh. Yeah. Of course."

Neither of them could think of much to say after that so they descended back into an excruciating silence. James had never hated himself more. Out of all the people to share Prefect duties with, it had to be someone who he could hardly look at without blushing, let alone talk to. He didn't even know why he couldn't talk to her. She wasn't _that _attractive. In fact, except for her hair, she was quite normal. Her pixieish face was in no way out of the ordinary, she wasn't fat, and she wasn't thin. She was much shorter than average, and that made her quite cute, but short girls weren't anything unusual. Nevertheless, apparently a combination of all of those things was all it took to turn James' communication skills to mush. _Maybe she's part Veela or something, _he thought. No that was stupid. He snuck a glance at her when she wasn't looking. Although she was pale, her skin had a slightly golden quality to it. She was at least a slightly above average, he decided. No, definitely more than slightly. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, she had nice skin, and her eyelashes seemed to continue for miles… He quickly pretended to be staring out the window as she glanced over at him. _Stop. You hardly even know her. She probably thinks you're an idiot anyway. _ _Fifth year, of course she's in fifth year. You'll be lucky to have one conversation with her that won't make her wonder if you are mentally challenged at this rate._ He glanced at her again and sighed inwardly. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't usually encounter girls he found attractive.

"So…" Natasha broke James' ceaseless train of thought.

"How was your summer?" He asked, composing himself and forcing his eyes to remain on hers.

She looked a bit taken aback, most likely at James' intense stare, and took a short moment to reply. "Oh, um, it was brilliant! I went to _three_ Holy Head Harpies games. I love Quidditch, but I can't play to save my life—oh that's right, your mum's on that team…and you don't really seem to want to talk about your family, do you?" She giggled a bit, and the sound of this fluttered in James' ears for some time. "Well…let's see…Ah! I went to a metamorphmagus convention in Ireland. It was hilarious, really. You couldn't tell who was who for more than five minutes at a time. What'd you do?"

James stuttered. "I-I played a lot of Quidditch. I'm Keeper on our team, you know," He added with a boastful smirk. _What am I doing?_ He wasn't generally the type to show off…"I dunno, my mum planned a lot of family things, since we hardly ever get to see each other anymore. So we went to Paris to see the annual dragon show. One of my uncles trains them for a living so we got in backstage and whatnot."

"Oh that sounds fascinating!" She exclaimed with genuine interest. "I love Paris! My mom and I went a few years ago, we haven't been able to go back though…" And from here the conversation was relatively fluid. The two conversed with the others in the compartment and with each other especially, until the Head Boy and Girl came back through the doors.

"Alright, everyone in your seats, please," Gregory Wafkton ordered loudly. He too had glasses shoved right up to the top of his nose, as well as unkempt hair. "Now, Eleanor and I have many things to discuss and convey to you people, so if you could all keep quiet in the meantime," He added the last request to the two snickering Slytherin prefects. "Now, the letter you received over the summer _did_, in fact, list your duties. However, Eleanor and I thought it would be best to go over each thing on the list in great detail…"

* * *

_A few compartments down, a little girl sat. She was a first year and subsequently engaging in the customary trembling and nail biting. Her shoulder-length black hair hung in front of her face like a wall blocking, or maybe shunning, her from any contact. The clothes she wore were tattered, but her hand-me-down uniform sat in a crumpled fold on her lap simply waiting to be adorned by the innocent first year. It was truly unbelievable that this child was even here. She was a Muggle-born, this much she had learned. And it seems that in the time from her new birth, as she liked to think of it, and her sitting on this train now, melted together in a pool of nothingness and, like her life before her new birth, none of it mattered. She was here now and she would make every moment of this fairy tale last forever. Never, ever would she go back to her world before magic. Her mind was entirely consumed of what was to come. She knew there would be cauldrons and toads… but what else? What magic was this mere stick with a unicorn hair capable of?_

A boy was sitting across from her, presumably a first year as well. She peaked out of her waterfall of hair, but quickly concealed herself once more.

"Hi, I'm Toby. What's your name?" The boy asked nervously, and he had good reason to.

"Lyra," The girl snapped back, turning away from him to look out the window. She watched the raindrops on the window race down and crowned winners in her mind. Why would this boy even bother talking to her? She had better things to think about. The potential this magic brought. _Her_ potential. She thought of magiking colors around rooms and lighting up towns with random, unexplainable bulbs of bright lights. She thought of charming puppies to stay young forever and to never turn into old dogs. She imagined all the jealous stares she would receive after she preformed a flawless magic show, bunnies hopping endlessly out of her hat. She watched the raindrops more intently now and imagined herself made of rain. She would surely win every window race from this moment on.

The train ride lasted years, it seemed. Lyra wanted nothing more than for her adventure to continue and progress into something beautiful, but this couldn't be done sitting on a train. As the hours dragged on, she was in a haze. An old woman came by to offer the two first years sweets, and Lyra, who, thanks to the new welfare program at Hogwarts, had a small amount of money she was allowed to spend throughout the year. She ordered a Mars Bar, but the old lady didn't seem to know what that was, and instead Lyra settled for something called a Cauldron Cake and a bottle of what was called Pumpkin Juice.

The Cauldron Cake filled Lyra up to the point of a short food coma, and she resurfaced just in time for the train to slow to a halt.

The sky outside was painted black with glitter shining down from it, illuminating the scene before the students. An extremely large, hairy man called for the first years and they all followed him with trepidation towards a lake mirroring the sky. "Okay, firs' years! Grab a par'ner and ge' in a boat!" Lyra stayed with Toby, however reluctantly, and climbed into a wooden boat that magically paddled itself towards an impossibly huge castle silhouetting the sky. The trip took no time at all, and soon the first years were, once again, being herded by the big shaggy man, this time towards the great doors of the castle. Lyra's insides twisted with a mix of anxiety and excitement as the group was told to wait quietly in the Entrance Hall as Headmaster Dibble got the Great Hall reading for something called _The Sorting_. Lyra ignored the questions running through her mind and focused on the greatness surrounding her.

The walls of the building were covered with flickering candles lighting the halls with a dim, warm glow. Old paintings encased in golden frames moved about, talking to one another, even conversing with older students on their way into the hall. Lyra watched in wonder as the people in the paintings moved from their frame to their friend's frame effortlessly. She gazed at them in awe, capturing the moment in her mind forever. Suddenly a professor came back to the group of mesmerized first years and told them the order in which the night's events would unfold. She told of the sorting, and the four houses and the qualities that defined each member. Hufflepuff, known for their extraordinary kindness, Ravenclaw, known for their immeasurable wit, Gryffindor, known for their exceptional valor, and Slytherin, the most cunning of the lot. Lyra internally debated which house she thought would suit her best as the group filed in to the Great Hall.

This room was even more magnificent than the last. Four long tables stretched from the back of the room to the front, where one long table held all the professors and the Headmaster. Silverware and student's eyes shimmered from the tables, watching the first years walk to the front to meet their fate for the next seven years. Once the group was in place, the professor started calling names and slowly the first years were sorted.

"Black, Lyra," The professor said in a clear tone. Lyra followed suit of the other students before her and stepped up to the stool placed in front of the Hall. As she sat down, her eyes fell upon the hundreds of people looking at her and, strangely enough, she wasn't nervous anymore. She knew that these people were like her, they understood magic and how it worked and they would help her. And perhaps, they would _like_ her, as well. She had a slight smile on her face as the professor slowly put the hat on her head. Suddenly, the hat whispered to her. "_Ahh, a Muggle-born I see…yes…quite a bit of potential…SLYTHERIN."_

_

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_

**A/N** Hullo, readers! :) Once again, please review! And thank you very much for the reviews thus far as well. I really appreciate it!

On a slightly unrelated note, you should all really go see _Black Swan_. The reason I say this is only slightly unrelated is because the movie is absolutely breathtaking and it inspired my writing for this chapter a lot. Anyway, I really recommend it, it's beautiful and sad and incredible.


	4. chapter three

After the last of the newly sorted first years took her seat at the Hufflepuff table Professor Dibble, the Headmistress, stood up to give her customary start of term speech.

"Hello everyone. Welcome to what I'm sure will be another excellent year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry!" James looked around, immersing himself the grandeur of the Great Hall. Ever since his first year here, James had always known he had two great homes; his house, with his overbearing, yet loving and adoring family, and Hogwarts, the place where his magical ambition came to grow into something beautiful. Every year he expected to get bored of school, to find it tedious, but every year he was surprised with new knowledge and spells that he couldn't have even dreamt existed. The ambiance of the Hall radiated around him and, even through all the months he spent here, he could never, ever soak enough of it in. "Now," Headmistress Dibble continued. Her tone always had an odd mixture of air and severity. "Before we sing the school song there are a few announcements that I would like to make. To the first years, and anyone else who may need reminding-" her dark eyes flickered over to Rose and Lily who smirked up at her from the Gryffindor table. "No magic in the corridors, no jinxing your classmates, and the Forbidden Forrest has its name for a reason! Also, in news that will be new to all of you, we will be having a formal ball this year in February. The ball is, as maybe a few of you know, a tradition year at Hogwarts that we hold once every seven years in celebration of defeat of the Dark Lord in the Second Wizarding War. I advise all of you to get the necessary attire by that time, and perhaps a date as well! The ball is scheduled to occur on the twelfth of February. Yes," She added to a group of giggling second years. "Right in time for Valentine's Day! Anyway, to keep this brief, study hard, follow the rules, and do the very best that you can and I am sure we will all have a marvelous year. Now shall we sing?"

As the students began to sing Alex turned to James and said "A formal dance? Bloody hell. That sounds horrible."

James, having had several family friends already attend and graduate from Hogwarts, knew about the ball already. He didn't, however, know it was going to be this year. "You don't have to go if you don't want to I'm sure." Said James, who was doing all he could to keep from glancing at Natasha. "Plus it probably won't be that bad, as long as you can find someone to ask…"

"That won't be a problem for me mate, it's you who should be worried." Alex smirked, then turning away, he added a loud high pitched harmony to the last note of the song.

After the feast, James was feeling pleasantly plump and ready for a nice long snooze up in his warm, comfortable dormitory. However, his daydream of a peaceful evening was disrupted by the announcement from the headmistress. "Yes, yes! Quite a delicious meal, and I assure you we will have many more! Now, I hope you all have a wonderful evening, and I'd like to remind the Prefects that it is your duty tonight to lead the first years to their respective dormitories and to answer any questions they may have! Prefects, please stand up so your classmates can get a good look at you!" James stood up and glanced around for Natasha, spotting her fluorescent head halfway down the table. "Goodnight, all!" Professor Dibble said, and with a flick of her wand all the dishes were cleared from the table and the Great Hall erupted into chatter once more.

James turned to an quivering first year just as Natasha ran up to him. "Hey, James! Guess we're officially partners in…er…order now!" She flashed him her perfect smile and he forget about the nervous first year until the kid jabbed him in the back.

"Excuse me, sir! When do I find out my classes, sir?"

"Er, tomorrow morning…they're handed out at breakfast," James answered awkwardly. There was one thing he was sure of this year: he would never get use to being an authority figure.

"Oh! Okay. You're Harry Potter's son, aren't you? That's amazing! I wish I was famous, or at least my parents. What's it like?" The girl asked eagerly.

"That really has nothing to do with how Hogwarts runs…" He answered, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well, my name's Dana McDonald. I really, really admire your family! Could I have an autograph maybe? Please? I've never met anyone famous before…"

"No. I'm not famous, my parents are." He said and he walked away to lead the other first years to their common room.

Natasha joined him at the front of the pack of first years. "You really hate being asked about your family, don't you?" She asked with her half smile. "I understand, I guess. I mean I would honestly think it's awesome but I haven't experienced it so…"

"I just don't like being called famous when I haven't done anything." James snapped.

"Sorry, sorry," Natasha replied innocently. "They're just first years, though. Don't scare them off quite yet…"

The pair paved the path to the dormitory for the youngsters and eventually found solace from the incessant questioning. It was around 11 and most first years had gone to bed in vain and in an attempt to rest for their first classes tomorrow, though James new perfectly well that _no one_ slept their first night at Hogwarts.

He looked around the room and felt horribly homesick. James knew that for a lot of people, Hogwarts was a second home. While he felt the warmth and comfort of Hogwarts, his own house was truly his favorite place in the world. He missed his parents, however childish that was, and he missed the peace of his own room. He looked to Natasha who was immersed in her Potions book. Her hair hung delicately in front of her face and James had an unprecedented urge to brush it away. They hadn't spoken much since the first years had dispersed, and he wondered whether or not she was truly annoyed by the way he acted when people asked about his parents.

"So, erm, how's the book?" He asked stupidly.

Natasha glanced up with a curious look on her face. "It's fine," She said.

"So when're we going to find out where the Prefect's bathroom is?" He laughed awkwardly.

"They told us on the train, James…" She replied with a smirk. "It's on the fifth floor…"

* * *

After the seemingly never ending Welcoming Feast, Lyra was at last bound towards her common room. With her first steps into the dark room, she stopped. There were magnificent sculptures spread throughout the room that Lyra expected to move at first, but rather she was distracted by the intricate ceiling paintings that seemed to dance across their floor. _Hello, home_. She plopped herself on a couch, but quickly got back up to examine the grand fireplace.

Once she had seen everything and absorbed its glanderous atmosphere, Lyra slipped up to the girl's dormitory to escape the hustle and bustle of the common room. _Thank God, it's empty,_ she thought to herself. The last thing she wanted was to have to listen to another boring account of Teresa's singing relatives. She sat down on her bed, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began to write.

_Dear Mum,_

_Hogwarts is amazing! It's absolutely nothing like non-magic school. The teachers seem brilliant, the food is wonderful, and everything is so interesting. For once, I actually want to go to class! It's been less than four hours and I already feel like it's my home._

Lyra paused for a moment. Perhaps she was being overly enthusiastic. She didn't want her mother to feel bad or even envious of her magic, but she was telling the truth; Hogwarts was the closest to home she had ever felt. All through her childhood, Lyra and her mother had moved constantly. They had lived in everything from abandoned apartment buildings to dirty alleyways on account of the fact that they had absolutely no money. Lyra had learned from a very young age that although her mother loved her, she would always come second to an addiction to a near-deadly combination of drugs. They found a place to stay for as long as they could, and for some reason or another they would always have to go. All of this activity had made it hard for Lyra to keep up with schoolwork and this combined with her classmates' mutual loathing of her made her despise classroom settings in every single way. Hogwarts, however, felt different. Here, she could turn over a new leaf. She would never miss school, she would do all of her homework, and she really couldn't care less what her classmates thought of her. And once she could do magic in the Muggle world, Lyra knew things would be different. No more hungry nights, for she would be able to make food appear out of thin air. No more sleeping on pavement, she and her mother would live in a beautiful flat paid for by her prestigious wizarding job. Most importantly, no more believing that things would always be bad for the both of them; magic was more than hope; magic was the glossy, pure, unimaginable guarantee of a new life.

Before she knew it, Lyra was crying. She quickly wiped her face on her sleeve and collected herself. She had never been one to cry much. Suddenly, the will to write to her virtually estranged mother faded. She put her quill to the parchment again and finished off the letter with a lame,

_The only thing that would make it better is if you were with me. I miss you and hope everything's well._

_Lyra_

_

* * *

_

As a child, Lyra had always loved string games. Cat's Cradle, Jacob's Ladder, Cup and Saucer…she could do them all. They were perfect for a young girl living in poverty because all that was needed was a piece of string and a substantial amount of boredom, both of which were easy to find wherever she and her mother decided to stay. The young girl use to muse to herself that string was the single most important thing in the world, and that the epitome of happiness could be found in a piece of thread. She thought of them now, because it felt as though someone was making her insides into one large Cat's Cradle game. It was her first day of classes at Hogwarts and she was already running late for Potions. It should have been the easiest class for her to find considering it was in the dungeons, which was also where the Slytherin dormitories were, but the corridors at Hogwarts were a labyrinth. She considered asking one of the portraits for directions, but for one, she was much too shy, and two, she had never talked to a portrait in her life and had no idea how one was supposed to go about it. She sighed and resigned herself to the fact that she was probably not going to make it to class anytime soon.

Despite its confusing layout, Lyra already loved Hogwarts. She had been there a day, but she already knew that she could wander the castle well into the afterlife and still not get bored. Everything about it was beautiful and perfect. But Lyra was sure that her love for the castle would be nothing compared to how much she would love learning magic. The possibilities had been dancing through her head since the second she had received her letter. This was one of the many reasons that she was anxious to get to potions. She could care less about what the other students thought of her, but having a teacher dislike her almost made her sick. They were the ones who were going to be sharing this wonderful knowledge with her, and she wanted each of them to see just how much she appreciated it.

Finally, she saw the correct doorway ahead. She sprinted towards it and burst into the classroom only about seven minutes late. Thankfully, she wasn't the only one. It looked as though half the class had just arrived, most of them still rummaging through their bags for a quill or parchment, some of them still finding seats. She took one in the back so as to remain unnoticed.

She looked around her in admiration. The walls were covered in shelves loaded with different colors of jarred gases, what Lyra assumed were potions, and even body parts of unknown animals. The room had an eerie feel to it, it was dark and small, and the walls seemed as though they could be closing in so slowly no one would notice until they were crushed. Petrified creatures hung from the ceiling glancing down at the students in their dead way, and in the vacant stares Lyra found bliss.

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**A/N** The next chapter will be much more action-packed, for lack of a better phrase. :~) Review, pretty please!


	5. chapter four

**Chapter Four: **

"Seet down everybody please." said a rather portly, slightly androgynous woman at the front of the room in a heavy French accent. "We 'af quite a lot of work to do." It was Lyra's second week at Hogwarts, and for the first time she was about to concoct a real potion. Ever since Professor Bubblé had announced it two days ago the first years had been practically itching with excitement. It was impossible to walk down a corridor without hearing one of them wondering aloud to their friends what the potion would be or to hear another bragging about how they were already practically an expert since their parents allowed them to practice their alchemy skills at home. Of course, these children were better prepared than the rest of their peers, but Lyra had done her best to catch up. Not having any friends or extracurricular activities to speak of, she had spent nearly all of her free time in the library researching different ingredients and their uses in potion making. She had read through her entire copy of Magical Drafts and Potions and was onto much heavier books she had taken off their dusty shelves. Thus, when she walked into class that morning she felt quite well-prepared.

"Bonjour, good morning, seet seet!" said Professor Bubblé authoritatively. "Now I'm sure you all 'af remembered your textbooks because today we will be making our first potion! It ees very simple and I'm sure 'zat 'zere will be very leetle trouble. You all remember 'ze tips I gave you yes? Good! 'Ze instructions are on the board." She waved her wand and ingredients appeared on the chalkboard behind her. "Good luck!"

Lyra immediately dug in. It was definitely not a hard potion, just a simple acne solution. She added her ingredients with twice the precision and half the time of her classmates and promptly brought a vial of her potion up to Professor Bubblé for inspection.

"My goodness!" exclaimed Professor Bubblé upon seeing Lyra's potion. "Eet is near perfect! Well done my dear!" she gave Lyra a warm smile.

"Thank you." Lyra said grinning right back at her.

"'Ow did you manage to do this so well hmm? Do your parents 'af a background in potion making?"

"No." said Lyra sheepishly. "I'm Muggle born. I just learned it by myself."

"Well my dear," Professor Bubblé said with a friendly smile, "you definitely have quite 'ze gift!"

* * *

After class, Lyra packed her bag quickly and hurried from the room in anticipation of her next class. It seems, however, others had a different idea on how Lyra's day was going to unfold.

"Hey you!" A kid behind her shouted fairly rudely. She turned on her heel to get a look at who it was. He was in her year, and if she remembered correctly, his name was Frances Goyle. He was a fat, smelly Slytherin that made it a hobby to harass his fellow classmates. "Yeah, you," He said stupidly, seeing Lyra turn to him. "So you're a Muggle-born then? And I bet you think you're the most brilliant in our class, eh?"

"Get your fat arse _away_ from me," Lyra snapped viciously. Yes, she was Muggle born, but why should that matter? Clearly she was exceptionally more intelligent than most, if not all, of the tossers in her year.

"You know, Muggle borns are absolute _filth. _They are a lot more accepted around here than they use to be, but my dad tells me stories. You Mudbloods ruin our purity," He said with a smug face, glaring down at Lyra.

Lyra had no perception of how subjugated Muggle borns use to be, but she knew enough about prejudice to know that Frances Goyle was, most likely, not bluffing. A rage swelled in her at his words and she lost control. "You think _I'm_ less than _you?_" She asked with flaring nostrils. Her insides burned with rejection and hatred that she had never felt, but repressed through the years of her childhood. She felt daggers in her stomach and she wanted to wrench them out and blind her antagonist.

But her thoughts switched course…and she felt unworthy in a matter of seconds. She wasn't a true witch, was she? She didn't deserve magic, really…? And she instantly blamed her mother in a flurry of unyielding thoughts. Muggles had treated her wrongly all her life, and this fat bastard was simply pointing out the fact. Disgusting. She felt vile. How could she befoul her beloved magic with her blood? Self-loathing wasn't a new sensation to Lyra, but now that her uselessness spread to her magic, she felt destroyed. Why did her mother have to be so impure? She felt anger coursing through her veins like flooding rivers and in anger she reached into her pocket for her wand. Whether or not Goyle was right, he had no business talking to her.

* * *

James had been walking alone down a corridor, ambling off to his next class when heard an earsplitting scream, a crash, and feet running frantically. He saw Nat rush down a corridor and quickly followed suit.

When he rounded the corner, he saw the cause of the noise and he had to suppress a chuckle:

A little first year girl had her wand out and she was looking down at it in a near stupor. Opposite her was a fat, ugly first year grabbing stupidly at his nose, which seemed to be growing at a remarkable rate. Around the pair, it looked as though an explosion had occurred. Ink bottles were scattered, broken down the corridor, parchment was torn and scattered everywhere, and one of the student's bags had been torn to shreds, books and all.

"W-what happened here?" Natasha asked quietly, gently trying to move the little girl away from the boy. "James, what do we do? His nose is…huge!" She asked frantically, trying to stand the boy up to get a better look at him. "What do we do?" She asked helplessly.

"_Reducio!"_ James said hastily, pointing his wand straight at Goyle's face. His nose instantly shrunk back to its normal size, but, worried it may actually shrink more, James said, "You should probably hurry off to the infirmary," Before the kid had a chance to get away, he remembered something. "Wait, what happened?" He turned to the girl.

"He made fun of my bloodline _because_ he's jealous of my obvious superiority," She said coldly, inching away from Natasha and dusting off debris from her skirt. "And so I cursed him."

"Um, alright," Natasha, who, too afraid to make a mistake so early in her Prefect duties, had simply been watching the scene unfold rather uselessly, "Five points from Slytherin for that, does that sound good? You can go now." As she added the last bit, Frances Goyle ran off stifling tears.

"And you," James said strictly, turning to Lyra, "Fifteen points for hexing him. You have no idea what could've happened to him," James said in an oddly authoritarian tone. "Nat, we should probably take her to her Head of House…You're going to get detention for this, you know."

"And why is that? He's allowed to insult me and I can't defend myself?" The girl snapped, her eyes black with hatred towards James.

"He's a _Goyle_, they've always been about the purification of blood, even after the Second War. It hasn't changed and it won't. Apparently his dad bullied mine back when they were in school. You just have to live with it."

"I'm not going to sit by while some bloody idiot attempts to make a fool of _me_," She said, and walked off, leaving Nat and James standing in the mess of items that had been blown to pieces by her curse.

Once out of earshot, Nat blushed and turned back James. "I'm sorry I didn't handle that well. You seem to've been a perfect choice for Prefect though…" She gave a nervous laugh. "I know that spell and everything…I just couldn't think of it—"

"You're just too nervous," James said, laughing in spite of himself. He was shocked at the level of authority he was able to display, while usually _he_ was the stuttering mess around this girl. "You'll be better than me in no time," He winked.

* * *

"_Dear Jamesy,_

_How are you darling? Please do write us soon, we want to know _all_ about your first few weeks as a Prefect. Also, make sure you're studying a little every week for those impending O.W.L. tests. Take it from Ron, you do not want to leave this studying until the last minute. (Hermione suggests spending an hour a week dedicated solely to the O.W.L. subjects.) One last reminder and I'll get on to filling you in on what's been going on here: can you please check up on Albus a bit? He doesn't seem to be adjusting well, according to Neville—_

James groaned and put down the letter for a break. Having your parents on terms with your teachers and pretty much _everything_ else in the Wizarding World was dreadfully tiring. They knew everything about everything that was happening or was about to happen.

_and you're his big brother James, he looks up to you more than you realize._

_Anyway, things around here have been absolutely hectic. Your father's been gone every night for a few weeks (but it's nothing to worry about, dear), and I've been asked to rewrite the training manual for the Harpies for the upcoming season. _

_I love you dearly, sweetheart. I hope you're having a wonderful time and I hope you're finding the title of Prefect to be a great experience. Your father wants to write a bit to you as well-_

_Hullo James! Neville's told me you've stepped up as a Prefect. I wouldn't have guessed you had it in you, but I guess the world is full of surprises, right? I just wanted to reiterate that you should write back soon—your mum's on the frits. You're the only one who hasn't informed us of anything, and to be honest you're the only one who has anything interesting going on (as much as I love Lily, I could go a lifetime without another letter of her expressing her affection for a random boy in her class)._

_Write back soon!_

_Lots of love,_

_Mum and Dad"_

James laughed and put the letter away. In all honesty, he should write back soon. Nearly a month of the term had passed by and he had gotten owl after owl pestering him to send news back to his parents. But, like everything, there was a reason James was so hesitant on writing back. He was, in short, furious with his father.

He was sitting on his bed enjoying the silence of the dormitory as students excitedly practiced and polished their Quidditch skills for the upcoming tryouts. There was a slight flutter of snow outside his window, but it was only late September and the snow wouldn't stick until right before Halloween. That's all James was really waiting for. Winter brought him peace.

He glanced at the letter that lay on his bed and rolled his eyes, picking up the _Daily Prophet_. Over the past few weeks, the front page had been littered with titles such as _"Mysterious Death of Ministry Member", _and "_Several Missing…No Leads"_.

"_Nothing to worry about"_, nothing to worry about. His father is Harry bloody Potter. His father knows _something_, at the very least; but he refuses to tell him. James was infuriated by this because of the pure _hypocrisy. _He recalled stories his father told him of being led blindly into what others wanted him to do; that at times no one would tell him what was going on when it involved the very life of him. What was even more maddening was that James was fifteen, almost sixteen years old. At this age, his father had dealt with more than most Wizards deal with their entire lives and yet he refuses to simply _tell_ James what's going on. He wasn't a child, and he certainly was older than his father was when he had done half the stunts he's famous for.

What good was being Harry Potter's son if he wasn't even allowed to know what was going on in the world?

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Pleeeeeease review? :-) Pretty please?


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